


Quiet in the Library

by tristesses



Series: Code of Conduct [3]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Light Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-03
Updated: 2012-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-28 20:52:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/312077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tristesses/pseuds/tristesses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the hour before Kirk's hearing, Nyota fills out some paperwork, thinks about exercising, and pays Spock a visit in the private section of the library.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quiet in the Library

**Author's Note:**

> This is a follow-up to [Receive Transmission](http://archiveofourown.org/works/71897) and [A Clear Violation...](http://tristesses.livejournal.com/23132.html), although you don't have to read those to understand this.

Starfleet is, as the brochure says, "a humanitarian and peacekeeping armada chiefly concerned with making advances in scientific knowledge and developing diplomatic relations with new species", but despite all the flowery words, it's mostly a bureaucracy. Nyota has never been more aware of that than right now, perched on her bed in her dorm, PADD in hand, filling out which may be the hundredth form required for her request. She sighs, sets her stylus down, and shakes out the cramp in her hand, glaring balefully at form T-194-D76F, which begins "I the undersigned (Nyota Uhura) acknowledge that any romantic relationship with the co-signer (Spock of Vulcan) will take place solely in a non-professional environment, separate and distinct from any Starfleet-sanctioned interactions; said relationship will not influence any Starfleet-related decisions on the part of the superior officer, nor will the subordinate officer attempt to use said relationship to manipulate the superior officer -" and continues, with altogether too much legalese for Nyota's liking.

"Well," she says with a sigh, "at least they've got all their bases covered." Tapping a few keys, she does a quick search for every blank where she's supposed to sign, initialing quickly and adding her Starfleet ID number after each scribble. _Spock would be appalled_ , she thinks with a slight smile; he is not exactly the sort of man who takes paperwork lightly. Especially not recently, considering the stress he's been under, with that Kirk kid hacking the Kobayashi Maru, calling all of Spock's programming into question - after all, if some upstart cadet from Iowa can rewrite it well enough to actually win the unbeatable test, who's to say it's as failproof as Spock has assured the administrators? He's probably in the library, reading up on every last bit of Federation law, searching for a loophole that will make his case against Kirk anything less than airtight, prepared for anything.

Nyota frowns, taps her stylus on her teeth, and considers her tasks for the day. The final analysis of her thesis has been completed and the paper returned to her - she aced it, and was commended by the head of Communications, a fact that still makes her warm inside when she thinks about it; she's found her dress uniform, clean and pressed, and hung it in her closet, draped in protective plastic, ready for graduation in a week; she's all but finished with the paperwork to clear Starfleet of any liability should there be fallout if or when she and Spock end their relationship; and Gaila's out of town - club hopping with friends along the California coastline - so all she has left to do is her daily run. For a moment, Nyota regrets being so productive; she has nothing to look forward to for the rest of the day. Just exercise, which is healthy but not all that exciting.

Then again, there are other forms of exercise than running. And Spock undoubtedly needs a distraction; she's learned over time how he can never stop obsessing over something if he thinks he did it wrong, even if there's nothing he can do to fix it and even if it would be more logical to set the problem aside - he'd told her it was one of his most prevalent flaws.

So, the library. Nyota sets her PADD aside and pulls on her boots, finger-combing her hair into its usual trim ponytail. Once she's out of the dorm, she turns her face to the warm sun and smiles. It's one of those days where absolutely nothing can go wrong; it almost seems a shame to spend it inside. Perhaps she'll convince Spock to take his research to a sidewalk café, so she can relax in the sun while he searches for answers.

After some choice time in the quiet parts of the library, of course.

 ****

. . .

"Mind if I join you?"

Spock pauses in his reading to glance up at her, a thin line apparent between his angled brows. Vulcan he may be, but he shows irritation just like any other person when caught unawares.

"Cadet Uhura," he greets her formally. "You may, although I do not believe there is anything pertinent to your interests in my reading material."

She frowns at him slightly for that; law is hugely important for a cadet on the Communications track, and while it may not be her speciality, she's perfectly knowledgeable about Federation regulations - plus, Spock has an annoying tendency of talking down to her, as if she just isn't as smart as he is and could never be. (She isn't, at least when it comes to the sheer wealth of information he knows versus what she does, and she's well aware of that; that's not the point, though.) He reads her expression correctly, and sets his PADDs aside with a barely discernible sigh.

"Forgive me, Nyota. I did not mean to cast aspersions on your taste in reading material."

"It's okay," she says, and settles into her seat. "Thank you for apologizing, though. It means a lot."

He arches an eyebrow at her words, and returns to his reading. Nyota stifles a sigh of her own. She's been trying to be more open and literal with her emotions lately, at his request; he wants to better understand her body language, and her direct phrasing works as subtitles for her little movements and non-verbal cues. But it won't do any good if all he does is give her that supercilious look and treat her like a specimen -

Oh. Nyota shuts her eyes for a moment; his aggravation is already rubbing off on her, even after just a scant minute in his presence. _One of the side effects of the mating bond_ , she supposes. One of the bad ones, unlike the constant feel of his mind in the corner of hers, or the way she suddenly likes plomeek soup while he's developed a craving for curry, or the shared orgasms. Yes, those are nice.

She takes hold of her memory of such an event, and clumsily pushes the feeling across the bond; she's still new at telepathy, and fumbles with voluntary exchanges of information like this. It takes her another try to properly send it - she almost has to lapse into a meditative state to access the bond correctly - but it's worth the trouble to see Spock stiffen in his seat as the memory hits - one of their earliest (and most remembered, for Nyota) encounters: her bent over his desk, already well-fucked and dripping wet, her panties around her ankles, scrabbling at the veneer of the tabletop while he takes her from behind, one hand yanking her ponytail taut and the other holding her steady…

"Nyota," he says, and stops. She crosses her legs and smiles at him. "This is a public place; your advances are not unwelcome, but they are highly inappropriate."

"That hasn't troubled you before," she shoots back, and his jaw twitches slightly at her accusation (which is entirely true, and in fact, she'd put money on the fact that it made him enjoy it more). "And I've checked the logs for this section - " which is restricted access, requiring a login code, " - and no one ever comes here. You're the last three visitors."

"That sentence is not grammatically correct," he murmurs, but he's setting his PADD to the side and arranging the rest in a precise stack at the edge of the table, turning in his seat to face her. "However, your data is accurate. I also do not believe I shall make any more progress with these files; the information is not relevant to my case."

"It's today, isn't it?" she asks idly, wiggling her foot out of her boot to stroke his leg lightly under the table. He tenses for a moment at the touch, then noticeably relaxes. "Kirk's inquiry?"

"Yes," he says shortly, and Nyota feels his anger spike again. She leans back in her chair and puts her feet in his lap; he looks down at them quizzically for a moment, then touches them lightly, stroking along her arch to her ankle, brushing the tips of his fingers along the curve of her calf.

Nyota smiles, and says, "I finished my paperwork today, too."  
"That is convenient timing." A small smirk is just barely visible on the edges of his lips, the biggest concession toward emotion she's seen from him yet, and probably more than anyone here's ever seen. "It should be processed in a matter of hours."

"The wonders of modern technology," she says, and takes her feet off his lap, and leans forward and kisses him, lightly, chastely, leaving it to him to take it from there.

He does not disappoint, cupping the back of her neck instantly, fingers brushing through the hair at her nape, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her firmly into his lap - _oh, that wonderful Vulcan strength_ , she thinks, with the mental equivalent of a smug grin, and wriggles on his lap, her long legs trapping his narrow hips between her thighs, and bites at his lower lip, catching it between her teeth (his lips are so full for a Vulcan's, so delicious to taste) before letting go. Spock's hand on her neck slides upward in response, and he tugs sharply on her ponytail, jerking her head back. Nyota gasps at the little shock of pain, and grabs his shoulders to keep herself steady as Spock investigates the smooth skin on her bare neck with his mouth.

"I did not order you to do that," he murmurs, his lips at the point of her jaw, touching her earlobe, kissing her pulse point, and Nyota shivers, allowing her head to loll back even further. "Any Starfleet officer with proper training would know not to take action until their superior officer commands it."

 _My favorite game,_ Nyota thinks, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. She can sense Spock in the back of her mind, listening to the thoughts she directs at him. _Yours too, I think._

There's no reply but the vague feeling of assent - not that she expected one - and by the time Spock raises his head to look her in the eye, Nyota's face is innocent, slightly worried, she's nibbling on her lips and she's pressed her palms flat against his chest, as if pleading with him.

"I'm so sorry, Commander," she says primly, and rocks her hips against his. Spock's eyes darken in response, and his grip on her waist tightens. _Such a tease. Gaila would be proud._ "That was very irresponsible of me. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you, so you don't report me?"

"As this is a first offense, and as you are still a cadet, to report you to my superior officer would be logical in order to prevent you from further breaches of conduct," he replies, and Nyota tilts her head to nip at the points of his ears - they're too tempting to keep up her pretense of disinterest. "However, should you prove yourself capable of taking direction in a manner that befits a Starfleet officer, I shall refrain from noting this on your permanent record."

"Commander, you are so generous," she breathes against his ear. "I can't thank you enough - "

And then he lowers his head and kisses her, demanding and insistent, and his hands slide up her legs, rucking up her skirt; she braces her knees against the chair to rise up so he can slip her panties off. He holds her while she wriggles to shimmy them down one leg, leaving them to dangle off her ankle, caught on the buckle of her boots - then he brings his fingers to her mouth and she takes them in, sweeping her tongue over the pads, and Spock makes a growling noise low in his chest and presses them in deeper until she gags slightly and sucks on them hard. He lessens the pressure, and she licks at his hand like she would at his cock, and the green flush on his cheeks is just so fucking hot.

 _So fucking hot, Commander,_ she tells him, and he shifts position, raising his knee slightly so she can rub against it, the rough fabric of his pants so good against her sex. _You're so fucking hot, so beautiful, God I want to fuck you please let me -_

He pulls his fingers out of her mouth and slips them between her body and his leg, thrusting two inside her without warning and she groans, gyrating her hips.

"You're _wet_ , Cadet," he whispers, and curls his fingers, and her body sparks - whether it's at the movement or at his words is anyone's guess.

"For you, Commander," she says, although in truth it's more of a whimper. "Always for you - please let me show you how much, please - "

"As you wish," he says, and releases his grip on her hips, raising the hand he'd had inside her to her mouth. She sucks the gleam off his fingers greedily, loving how his eyelids lower and how his muscles twitch, shifting to press against the bulge in his trousers that she caused - because he wants _her_ , and she doesn't know if she'll ever get tired of that thrill.

Licking her lips, she kneels on the floor between his spread legs, and caresses his thighs with her hands, leaning close and rubbing her cheek against him.

"Wait, Cadet," he orders quietly, and Nyota freezes in obedience. He pauses, as if thinking, and continues, "Remove your underwear from your ankle. Hand it to me, and turn around."

"Why?" she asks, curious, as she does what he says. He strokes her neck, and yanks her ponytail again, making her yelp, his favored method of punishment - no Vulcan woman would allow her hair to be touched in such a way; not only would it be illogical, but it would violate all social tradition. The allure of the taboo - Nyota gets that, and it doesn't surprise her that Spock does too, even if he'd never admit it.

"Do not be insubordinate," he tells her. "This is your final warning."

Nyota nods mutely, and he waits for her to be still before he says, "Place your hands behind your back with your wrists crossed, Cadet."

Her previous question is wordlessly answered when he wraps her panties around her wrists tightly, securing them behind her, useless. Nyota's eyes are half-closed under his touch, her body relaxed, evidence of her trust in him. He likes that, knowing the extent of her love, and with the bond he can understand it more vividly than ever before.

"Now turn around," he commands, and she does. Spock sits in the chair, elbows resting on the chair arms, his hands steepled, hair barely ruffled, every bit a cool and collected Vulcan - except, of course, for his spread legs and the tent in his trousers. He doesn't seem to care, though, or even notice. "Continue."

"How am I supposed to get your pants undone without my hands?" she asks, knowing very well what the answer will be.

"Your ingenuity has been remarked upon by your past five professors, myself included," Spock says. She thinks she detects a note of smugness in his voice. "I believe you are intelligent enough to realize the most logical method."

Nyota makes a small noise in the back of her throat, and leans forward. Spock has been gracious and undone the button; all that's left for her is the zipper. She flicks at it with her tongue until she can grasp it with her teeth, and slowly pulls it down. The room is silent but for the whisper of the zipper, Nyota's panting, and the sound of Spock's even breaths. That task completed, she tries to open his pants completely, nudging the fabric out of the way with her nose, brushing up against his cock when she does - he inhales, just slightly, just enough for her to notice - and when she's not successful at that, she whimpers, "Commander, _please_."

"Very well, Cadet," he says, displeased, and Nyota whispers an apology as he untucks himself from his trousers, baring his cock to her.

"Thank you, Commander," she sighs, and licks a path along his shaft, kissing the tip lightly. He's oozing precome, and when she pulls back to admire the view, it's a sticky string between her lips and his cock. She can only imagine the picture she makes, on her knees before him, hands bound and smiling.

 _Lovely_ , Spock tells her, just that one word, so simple but more expressive than anything he could say out loud; more expressive, even, than the look on his face as he gazes down at her. _Lovely_.

Nyota winks at him, flexes her fingers behind her back, and takes him in her mouth, relaxing her throat (a xenopolyglot must have excellent muscle control, after all). His hips stutter slightly, barely even enough to be a thrust, and she makes a pleased hum - then she _swallows_ , and Spock actually gasps, and he winds his hand in her hair, and holds her there, mouth wrapped around his cock. She bobs her head and basks in the rolling pleasure he's transmitting across the bond until she can't breathe, then releases with a gasp, tears in her eyes from the discomfort. Spock cups her cheek, and she nuzzles against his palm.

"Come here," he orders, and his voice is hoarse. Nyota turns her hand, still pressing her cheek into his hand, and asks cheekily, "Are you going to fuck me now, Commander?"

"Affirmative," he says, "but such an act requires your participation, Cadet."

Nyota is happy to comply; she ends up in his lap, straddling him, hovering just over his cock, back arched, teasing.

"Say please, Commander," she coos, and undulates her hips so her wetness presses against his hard length.

" _Nyota_ ," he hisses, and grabs her by the hips, but doesn't try to force her down - he refuses to, for she couldn't fight against his Vulcan strength, even if she wanted to.

"Say it," she breathes, and he bites the thick muscle where her neck meets her shoulder.

 _Please_ , he says in her head, and she lowers herself onto him; she probably couldn't have held out much longer, anyway, because he feels so damn good inside her, her nerves ripple and she moans, loud and unrestrained, and Spock moves, fucking into her, gripping her hips so hard she'll have sore bruises there by tomorrow, and she's gasping, her neurons sparking, receiving both her pleasure and his, and it's so - it's fucking _overwhelming_ and she's sobbing against his neck, saying "Spock, oh god, Spock, _yes_ " over and over, and soon she's incoherent, fracturing into a million glass shards and the bond takes up everything, her whole world is Spock and she is his and they are one and -

 _oh -_

 ****

. . .

The cadet they send to fetch Spock is young, maybe eighteen, maybe younger, and speaks with a thick accent and too much confidence for someone his age. Nyota, crossing her ankles, is just glad they had time to clean up before he came skidding in, even if her panties are still in Spock's pocket.

"Commander Spock!" the kid says, sounding truly excited. "I have come to tell you that the council room has been prepared for the hearing, and that you are being summoned by the admiralty for preparation."

"Thank you, Cadet," Spock says, inclining his head to the kid formally. "I will leave the library momentarily."

"Okay, Commander," the kid agrees gamely. He hovers in the room for a moment, eyes darting between Spock and Nyota - for one paranoid moment, she wonders if he knows, then remembers that her paperwork's probably processed by now, so it doesn't truly matter anyway; it's not like he has evidence of what they were doing just five minutes ago - then the cadet turns on his heel and leaves. The automatic door slides shut behind him with a soft hiss.

Spock glances to Nyota, who smiles at him.

"Well, good luck at the hearing. I'll be there."

"The student body will be assembled in its entirety," he replies, standing and tugging at his uniform. It still looks perfectly pressed; Nyota's halfway convinced he can never look ruffled. "I would expect you to be."

He moves to the door. Nyota's still sitting there, thoughtful, watching as he pauses before exiting.

"Thank you, Nyota," he says quietly, and she blinks in surprise - he's never thanked her for sex before, that just seems... _illogical_ \- but he leaves before she can question him.

A minute later, it clicks - he thanked her for wishing him luck. _A concession to my humanity_ , she thinks with a smile, and rises to leave herself - she has a hearing to attend.

Two steps later, she stops short and curses. Spock still has her panties. This is the second time he's run away with them - she's beginning to think he does it on purpose - but last time, she didn't exactly have to walk across campus -

Well, it's not like she can do anything about it now. "Nothing to do but keep on truckin'," she sighs, and holds down the hem of her skirt as she walks, delicately, each step ladylike, out of the library and to her dorm. They may have been her favorite pair, but she can just throw on any old underwear and go. The hearing won't take long, anyway.


End file.
